


Thorns Around My Heart

by Lady_Lavender



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Angst, Body Horror, Dante is a fucking wreck, Don't copy to another site, Hanahaki Disease, M/M, Mild Blood, Sibling Incest, Vergil is super emotionally repressed, i mean shouldn't that go without saying for a hanahaki fic?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-08
Updated: 2019-04-19
Packaged: 2020-01-06 17:59:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18393500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Lavender/pseuds/Lady_Lavender
Summary: Of course his chest ached when he saw how Dante had suffered, knowing that it could have been avoided if Vergil had just let himself go back to the human world with his twin all those years ago. Of course his chest ached when he thought about how Lady and Trish commented that those beautiful, blinding smiles came easier, were more freely-given, felt more genuine, ever since Vergil had come back.That ache was understandable, a mere product of roiling emotions that he'd tamped down and repressed for years only to find their way to the surface again. The sudden, gripping pain that felt as though something had wrapped around his heart, that started squeezing every time Vergil thought about how content he was just to have Dante fall asleep in his lap? That was not understandable, and felt so much more physical and real than any emotional pain he'd ever experienced before.Something was very, very wrong.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Uhhhh the fuck is finishing a WIP? Here, have the first chapter of my hanahaki fic.
> 
> I've literally never read or written a hanahaki fic before so please be gentle with me, this is totally new territory but I could not fucking resist once the idea was in my head.

At first, the pain that Vergil felt clenching in his chest every time he looked over at Dante was understandable. Twin brothers, two souls inextricably bound together from conception, had been separated for so long and only now were starting to relax in each other's presence. Vergil had always wanted the strength to protect Dante, even from himself, and that had driven them apart.

While their physical strength was evenly matched in a way that rankled on Vergil's nerves and he knew that he would never be able to truly protect Dante that way, he was beginning to see how his brother  _did_  need protection. Largely, from himself and his own emotions. Dangerous things that wounded Dante far more deeply than any sword.

The shop had been somewhat clean after their return, but it quickly grew into a trash heap if Vergil didn't keep on top of everything. The amount of Jack Daniels in the wet bar was troubling, and sometimes when Vergil pretended to nap on the couch, he heard Dante go through several bottles by himself in a particularly bad evening.

Dante had not truly lived while Vergil had been gone, allowing his emotions to wash over him in dangerous ways. So as the older brother, it was Vergil's job to protect his sibling from doing that. Not that it was easy — far from it, in fact, because Vergil was never particularly in touch with that emotional, human side of himself after so long. But just being there helped sometimes.

There were times when Vergil's wakened presence on the couch kept Dante from dipping into a drunken spiral on the bad days. More and more often, he was learning the signs that showed through the flashy facade his brother constructed — a pause at the mention of close family members fighting each other or dying, the hollow ring to his voice in a joke made just a beat too late, or the unwillingness to be around people at all when the mask started to crack.

The last part was when Vergil knew he was needed most, when refusing to leave Dante's presence would do the most good. Those nights, more often than not, ended with only a single bottle of alcohol consumed, shared between them before his twin fell asleep sprawled out on the couch with his head in Vergil's lap. Perhaps it wasn't the most comfortable of positions, but for Dante? He'd put up with it if it meant that his precious younger brother suffered a bit less.

So of course his chest ached when he saw how Dante had suffered, knowing that it could have been avoided if Vergil had just let himself go back to the human world with his twin all those years ago. Of course his chest ached when he thought about how Lady and Trish commented that those beautiful, blinding smiles came easier, were more freely-given, felt more  _genuine_ , ever since Vergil had come back.

That ache was understandable, a mere product of roiling emotions that he'd tamped down and repressed for years only to find their way to the surface again. The sudden, gripping pain that felt as though something had wrapped around his heart, that started squeezing every time Vergil thought about how content he was just to have Dante fall asleep in his lap even on a good day? That was  **not**  understandable, and felt so much more physical and  _real_  than any emotional pain he'd ever experienced before.

Something was very, very wrong.

At first, he tried simply ignoring it. He was one of the most powerful devils in existence, but he was still half-human. If it were something like a human illness, it would fade quickly, purged by his demonic half's healing powers. But time only made it worse — whatever this was literally stole the breath from his lungs each time Vergil looked at his brother's dazzling and sincere smiles.

He didn't know what was going on, but Dante was so happy now and Vergil didn't want to worry him. Nevermind that it would be admitting a weakness, the thought of Dante fretting over something that neither of them could do anything about didn't sit right. It would just be unnecessary worry and pain, for a brother that had already gone through so much because of  _him_. Vergil made himself a personal vow, once they'd returned from Hell, that he would find a way to protect Dante.

That vow was what he was holding onto, now. The vow to protect his twin at all costs, no matter what pain it caused Vergil himself. And just thinking of that made the twisting in his chest even more extreme, robbed him of oxygen in one fell swoop so hard that he started coughing.

It was a good thing that Dante was back in the shop, that Vergil looked human enough that no one passing him on the streets thought twice of a man carrying a bag full of groceries that stopped in a coughing fit. No one out here would worry about him, save for in the passing glances of concern that they might catch whatever he had.

Several moments passed, and Vergil's breath wheezed softly as he stared at his hand. Three small droplets of red stained his leather gloves from where he had covered his mouth. Blood that  _he_  had coughed up. Something was definitely,  _physically_  wrong, but neither Vergil nor Dante had ever gotten sick in their lives, that he knew about. Even Nero said that he was resilient to most human diseases, only got sick when whatever was going around reached epidemic levels, and always got off easy.

So going to a human doctor would be pointless, a pure waste of time. A demon might know what could override Vergil's natural healing in such a way that he coughed up blood, but he was reluctant to show weakness to someone he did not know or trust. Trying to find something on the demonic circles of the internet would have to be his only option. While he preferred the physical feel of books, and Dante wouldn't think twice about Vergil spending time going to libraries, bringing something home to really study what might be going on would only raise alarm bells.

No. So much better to keep this quiet. Vergil rubbed the specks of blood into the leather of his gloves, making them as though they were just a stain that had always been there. Soon, they would be more brown than red, easily mistaken for everyday grime and dirt and washed away the next time he cleaned the gloves themselves.

There was no need to worry Dante. None at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updates: ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ idek man, I'm not sure about keeping any kind of consistent update schedule or buffer on this one. We'll see how it turns out.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dante gets a couple of promises out of Vergil

Now, maybe Dante was just imagining things, but he could've sworn Vergil was up to something. His twin was back to being secretive, even a little dodgy when asked what he was so interested in on that tablet of his that he was taking constant notes with leather bound journal and a fancy-ass fountain pen.

Oh, Verge had been pissed when Dante nabbed the journal and flipped through the pages, but that didn't leave him with any real clues other than that his bro  _really_  didn't want him to see what was going on. Some kind of coded language, written in ink the color of dried blood.

Okay, so the ink was actually a pretty cool color, fit with a sort of gothic aesthetic that Vergil really enjoyed, but Dante would've figured blue. Blue was  _Vergil's_  color, red belonged to Dante. So was the ink some kind of clue, or was it just his dumbass twin being extra?

No closer to an answer, Dante closed the journal and started to hand it back, but then held it just out of reach when Vergil reached for it. "One condition, Verge."

"What," his twin's nasally voice rasped back. Verge seemed kind of hoarse today, were allergies getting to him? It was that time of year, and even half-demons weren't immune to getting a sore throat or even some temporary laryngitis from a touch of hay fever.

Still holding the book, Dante tapped it lightly against Vergil's forehead and grinned at the little wince he got in response. "Promise me you're not plotting something I'm gonna have to kick your ass over. I can get the code bit, I'm nosy and I'd read it in a heartbeat, but don't make me worry that I'm gonna have to figure out how to crack your ciphers while you're napping so you don't pull something stupid again."

A frown tugged at Vergil's mouth, and for a brief moment Dante thought about how he might be able to elicit a smile. Not a smirk, not something he wore when he was up to something sneaky (even if that was only a plan to dump ice water over Dante's sleeping face), just… a genuine laugh because he found something funny, or a content little upturn to his lips over a good meal. Shit like that.

"I give you my word, it is nothing that will even cause property damage, let alone a loss of life. Just a personal research project to keep me busy."

There was something not being said, but Dante wasn't quite sure what it might be. Still, Vergil was big on honor, and didn't give his word like that lightly, so for lack of any other evidence, he'd just have to believe his twin for the time being. He sighed, then gently handed the journal back to its rightful owner.

Dante watched as his brother set the book next to the face-down tablet on the coffee table, then pause for a few moments. Vergil wanted to  _say_  something, and had always been careful about wording when it was something that meant a lot to him. So, knowing that this wouldn't be a dumb quip or a mindless jab at him, Dante stood close by, arms crossed and waiting for his twin to speak his mind.

The words came, eventually, but they weren't exactly what Dante was expecting. "After everything I've done, why do you trust me at all?"

It took a few moments for that question to actually sink in, but once it did the answer came immediately. "Because I know you, Vergil. Giving your word on a lie would eat you alive."

Another pause, with Vergil sitting down and refusing to look at him this time. Dante worried, because that frown was deepening and he really, really did not like that. He stepped around the coffee table, then sat next to his brother and resisted the urge to lean against him.

"That's just it, Dante. You don't see the side of me anyone else sees."

Something heavy was going on, and he did not like this one little bit. Reading Vergil had always been difficult in some ways, even as kids, but with so many years spent apart, it was harder than ever and Dante wished he could open a portal into his twin's mind.

The mood was dour, and he couldn't stand it. Of course he had to do something about it, before that twisting feeling in his gut that said  _his brother might leave again_  got too loud and Dante let himself cave in to its dark whispers. No. Not this time. Never again.

"Of course I do. I see the side of you that gets tipsy with me and starts blushing at the slightest innuendo, the side that steals the chocolate cookies from my hiding spot, the side that gets all nerdy over a rare book you found at the secondhand bookstore and begs me to up your allowance for the month so you can get it even if it means the water bill's a little late and you have to go without a shower for a couple days."

All of those were things that Vergil did, things that he would never admit even  _happened_  to anyone else. Things that were more  _human_ — a humanity that Dante could see in his brother more now than any other time except when they were little boys.

Before they'd been torn apart and gone on separate paths.

"You really think I would not break my word to anyone else if it suited me, Dante?" Vergil's raspy voice stayed quiet, and this close Dante could almost hear his brother's breathing.

A hand settled on a knee, one twin comforting the other. "I think, Verge, that you'd never break your word to  _me_ , no matter how much it would benefit you."

Vergil smiled. It wasn't the kind that Dante had hoped to see, full of joy and love and so bright it could light up a room for all it would be just a small upturn of his lips — beautiful and gorgeous in its rarity. No, this smile didn't quite reach his brother's downcast eyes, was only a pale and mournful imitation of the one he'd wanted to conjure.

"Perhaps you know me better than I had thought." There was no move to push away the hand on Vergil's knee, only a resigned twin who reached for his tablet, whatever notes he was taking, and that ridiculous pen. Dante still didn't move even as Vergil settled the journal and pen on his lap, reclining with tablet in hand.

Several moments of near-silence passed, that fervent whisper of doubt creeping further into Dante's mind with each scratch of the pen nib on paper. "Hey Verge. Can I ask for your word on one more thing?"

The pen stopped, blood-red ink glistening on the paper for a few seconds before sinking in and feathering his brother's perfect handwriting. "That depends on what you're asking of me."

"Nothing too much, I hope. I just want your word that you're not gonna up and leave me again. I missed you, Vergil. I don't know if I could stand losing you another time."

Dante's words were pure, raw vulnerability — placing unwavering trust in his twin that they would not be used against him. He held his breath, some cynical and broken part of him waiting for a rejection. Instead, the pen was placed on top of the open journal, and Vergil's now-freed hand settled on top of his.

"If I leave you again, it will not be of my choosing. I  _can_  give you my word on that."

Those words weren't good enough, weren't enough to assuage the fear that always stayed in the back of Dante's mind, but he knew that promise was the best that Vergil could realistically commit to. Didn't stop him from wanting more, from wanting his twin to  _promise_  that he would never leave, ever again, for any reason.

"I'm a mess without you, Vergil." He didn't want to admit it, but since feelings were already coming out whether or not Dante wanted them to, better to put it out there.

Another smile from his twin, one that  _almost_  reached blue eyes that looked up into his. It still wasn't the one that Dante so desperately needed to see, but it was brighter than the last, close enough that he could pretend.

"I hadn't noticed."

The sheer amount of sarcasm in his twin's voice was enough to kickstart his urge to be a shit in return, so Dante let the bickering and play-fighting drown out the doubts for at least a little while. As long as Vergil stuck around, he only  _had_  to visit the darkest parts of his mind in dreams and fading memories.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so terrible at pacing and finishing things but I s2g that I will TRY to actually complete this. Helps a bit that I have a major ending scene already written out.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vergil has a realization

Vergil stared at the small, dark red splatters that now punctuated the notes he'd taken in his journal. Soaked into the paper, they hardly looked different from the ink he was using at an initial glance. Good, the choice to use the color he had would delay worries should Dante decide that an invasion of privacy was worth more than a twin's word.

This coughing fit had managed to be waved away as allergies, oddly enough. His brother noticed Vergil's voice being hoarser than usual, his mild difficulty breathing, and jumped to the obvious conclusion given their shared genetics and the time of year. A few days ago, Dante had brought home some allergy medication for them to share.

True, the medicine helped somewhat — at least his breath only wheezed immediately after a coughing fit. And Vergil could even get away with saying that his more severe reactions were because he'd been away from the human world for so long, the lack of exposure making his immune system go into overdrive at what it perceived as a foreign invader.

Dante bought the explanation so easily, and Vergil was quietly grateful that he didn't have to hide that his coughing fits existed at all. Although, given how they'd been getting worse, he was determined that he would at least hide the frequency. Until he could come up with an answer for what was going on, it was better to keep that quiet.

Unfortunately, he'd filled five pages of his journal with meticulous notes, his neat and tiny copperplate writing getting him no closer to an answer even as his symptoms worsened. They were just too vague, there was nothing he could zero in on to conclusively say what was affecting him.

For now, he had to put his search on hold. He needed to wait for other symptoms to develop, further clues as to what malady could override his demonic healing.

The clue he wanted so desperately came on one of Dante's bad days. They sat across from each other, taking shots from a bottle of Jack in turns as they reminisced on painful memories. By themselves, those thoughts would eat them alive, force them to spiral deeper into a personal hell that even their twin could not pull them from. Together, it still hurt... but also reminded them both that they were no longer alone. No longer  _had_  to be alone.

"On Mallet Island... Did you know it was me, Verge?"

Vergil remembered vividly what had been done to him. Each painful memory of the instances they'd met up on that island squeezed something tighter in his chest, and he cast aside his glass to unashamedly guzzle whiskey straight from the bottle. Maybe it would ease the physical and emotional agony he felt.

He set the glass bottle down with a dull  _thud_  only after emptying it of the remainder of its contents. Looking at his brother,  _ **seeing**_  his brother in the here and now and trying to drown out the years of corruption and overt control, was an aching relief that tightened the thorns around his heart even further.

"I'll take that as a 'yes,' then?" Dante questioned, and Vergil could only nod as he tried to remember how to form words, how to  _breathe_  in the wake of such devastating memories.

"I knew it was you. Mundus delighted in reminding me, but forced me to fight anyway. There was only so much control I had over my own body... I could fight with honor, refuse to attack you until you had come into the open and seen me, but I still had to attack eventually."

A pause as Dante sat back, trying to remember their fights back then. Trying to remember, probably, how he'd killed his twin brother with his own hands.

"It was you who tore off that helmet, wasn't it? That was all you, trying to beg for help. Trying to beg for me to release you from Mundus, even if it meant killing you."

The helmet... Right, he had done that, hadn't he? Wrested control over his own body for long enough to show Dante who he really was. Vergil could no longer remember what his thought process had been at the time, could only remember the desire for his brother to know who it was he'd been fighting, to know that he had not submitted to Mundus willingly.

"It's hard to say anymore. I just remember..." Vergil trailed off, thinking of how desperately he wanted not to fight Dante, just that once. Wanted to free himself of his shackles and return  _home_  to his twin.

The sharp pain that followed the thought of Dante being 'home' more than the physical plane or even the building they shared had Vergil coughing again. But it didn't stop, and combined with the alcohol in his stomach, he had to excuse himself to hurry to the bathroom. Vomit was expected, but at the tail end, something caught in the back of his throat.

Dante, thankfully, gave him space for the indignity of losing his dinner and the booze he'd gone through. He didn't have to be there as Vergil fished out a piece of something light blue with white edges and dark red spots. The texture, aside from being wet after its removal from his mouth, was almost like velvet, light veins running through it like a leaf.

Or a flower petal.

Well, now he had a new symptom, at least. Vergil managed to pocket the small piece of whatever he'd coughed up, intent on searching for parasitic demon plants. This was bound to worry Dante, but the appearance of a new clue was worth so much more in the long run. Now Vergil knew what to look for, he could start searching for a cure.

"You okay, Verge?" Dante's voice came from the doorway as Vergil started rinsing out his mouth with water to remove the sting of alcohol and bile from the back of his throat.

"I may have drank more than I can handle at the moment," he admitted.

As his twin moved closer, wrapping an arm around Vergil's shoulders and pulling him close, he let himself lean into the touch. Dante was  _home_ , his side a familiar and warm place that he felt he could really belong. Was it only the recent acceptance of his humanity that had helped him realize this? Or had those feelings always been there?

It didn't matter, he decided as Dante led him upstairs. They were both drunk enough that neither cared about stupid things like which bedroom belonged to whom, and simply fell into the same one together. Clinging to each other to keep the nightmares at bay, Vergil tried his best to keep his breathing quiet. But his twin brother only pulled him closer, chin resting on top of increasingly messy hair.

Falling asleep in his brother's arms felt right, and made even his wheezing breaths refuse to give way to coughing as they both drifted off. Worries about what was wrong with Vergil could wait until the morning.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dante and Vergil make terrible decisions

Dante had never been sick. Not once in his entire goddamn life — he didn't think it was  _possible_  for someone with his kind of healing to succumb to human illnesses. Sure, there were occasional issues with allergies, but those were more of a nuisance than anything else. So when he caught Vergil's breath wheezing, the coughing fits, and saw them brushed aside as allergies, he bought it at first. What could make someone like him and his brother sick?

Unfortunately, Vergil  _was_  sick. He left sometimes, to go get groceries or clothes or browse secondhand bookstores, and Dante skimmed through the browsing history on his twin's tablet. Search histories full of questions about demonic illnesses greeted him. What could be causing coughing fits and shortness of breath? Those were the symptoms Verge had so far, according to the damning evidence of his own tablet, but vague enough that it could be any number of things.

He understood, now, what was in that coded journal. Why Vergil wasn't saying anything — he'd always been secretive about his own weaknesses. Why let Dante in on knowing something was amiss? It hurt, twisted his gut in an awful way, because why couldn't Vergil just fucking  _trust_  him for once? Dante wouldn't take advantage of his brother in a weakened state, hadn't they gone over this by now?

So he stewed in a fresh bottle of Jack while Vergil was out of the house. One bottle turned into two, and then two into four. If it weren't for his demonic healing, Dante's liver would've rotted away a solid ten years ago, or he'd have died of straight up alcohol poisoning even longer before that.

Vergil returned, a small stack of secondhand books and their mail in one hand, and looked at the mess that Dante had devolved into without him there. For a few seconds, he just stood there, and then despite the noise of the door closing, Dante heard it — the gentle wheeze of his brother's breath had turned into ghastly sounding rattle.

"Verge," he started, trying to let his words catch up with his thoughts. Vergil had to say something, had to  _admit_  that he was hiding his weaknesses from him. Dante had to know why his brother refused to trust him.

"Dante, I thought we agreed that you wouldn't drink alone anymore."

Goddamn Vergil's stupid quiet tone of voice, he could never really tell whether he was being chastised or just reminded of a broken promise. Dante couldn't deal with that right now, especially not drunk. So he stood up, walked over to his fucking idiot twin and knocked the books out of his hand.

"Why don't you trust me, Verge?" Dante's vision blurred, and it wasn't until his twin's fingers came up to brush something wet from the corners of his eyes that he realized those were tears.

Devils couldn't cry. But Dante was human enough to be  _hurt_  that his brother wouldn't let himself be open and vulnerable, even after all the shit they'd been talking through in their shared drunken talks together.

Vergil ran a hand through his hair, then pulled Dante close. Held onto his shoulders and touched their foreheads together. This close, that rattle in his twin's chest was so fucking  _loud_ , so terrifying.

"I do trust you, Dante. More than I've ever trusted anyone, or ever will again. You're my strength right now, I—"

Vergil was cut off by another of his fucking coughing fits, but this one was so much worse than Dante had seen from him before. It sounded wet and gross, like there was some kind of build-up in his lungs that his body was trying to expel. Was this why his brother was out of the house so often lately? Why he was startled when Dante came home from a job earlier than expected?

He shoved Vergil's hand away from his mouth, pulled his twin in tight against his chest. Dante could feel the rasp of something in Vergil's throat, and the only thing he knew how to do to help was to hold on tighter.

It took so much longer than Dante would ever have wanted to hear for his brother's hacking to slow down. "I just didn't want to worry you, Dante. I can make it through this just fine, you should focus on other things."

"You're all that matters, Vergil. I can't lose you again."

Maybe he was way too drunk, but Dante could've sworn that Vergil's lips pressed against the hollow of his throat for a fleeting second. He wanted that touch to linger, to go higher, to—

"You'll always have me by your side, Dante. One way or another, I will find a way to stay with you. After all…" Vergil pulled away, wiping another of Dante's tears, "there's another promise I made to you, even if I never said anything about it out loud."

Something ached in Dante's chest as his brother pulled away, picked up the scattered books and pieces of mail. "What promise, Verge?"

Vergil started walking up the stairs, and didn't say anything until after Dante was already stumbling after him.

"I promised that I would take care of you."

That ache spread, and Dante just slumped against the wall, allowing himself to fall to the floor. He hugged his knees to his chest, trying to think of all the things that Vergil had said, to make sense of them.

Hardly any of it  _made_  sense, at least not in his drunken state. So he tried waiting for his demonic metabolism to purge the alcohol from his body in the hopes of having a clearer head.

Really, Dante should have expected to fall asleep there. He only woke up when the shrill ring of the old rotary phone roused him from his light sleep. Grouchy, knowing he was in no state to take on a job at the moment, he picked it up and growled out a "Sorry, call back tomorrow morning."

Now he was just hungover and  _still_  tired, so he pulled his coat off and slung it around the back of his front desk's chair. Dante nearly left it at that, but something fluttered down from the folds and caught his attention.

Looked like some kind of long flower petal. Kind of a mottled, blue-purple color, with splatters of red and white at the edges. Dante rubbed his fingers over it, only to see the splotches of red and purple give way to a faint overlay of red smeared over white and baby blue. The red rubbed off onto his fingers. A quick sniff, then a tentative taste made Dante feel like he was in a dream. A  _bad_  dream, a real doozy of a nightmare he couldn't wait to wake up from.

Blood.  ** _Vergil's_**  blood — he'd tasted it from the blade of his sword enough times to know for sure.

"What the hell, Verge..." he mumbled to himself, looking up in the direction of his brother's bedroom. What was his idiot twin hiding from him?


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vergil has some thoughts

Flowers.  _Demon_  flowers. It was apparently a common enough malady among demons, but normally this parasitic plant laid dormant until its host died. Then, it would bloom and spread its seeds to be inhaled by others. Vergil and Dante had seen a few of those corpses in their time in Hell, and neither had thought anything of it. That must have been when Vergil inhaled a seed.

No, the worst part… the worst part was what caused the flowers to bloom while the demon host was still  _alive_. It was such a rare thing that only old devils knew where to even look. So Vergil had asked, and then he'd done countless hours of digging and inter-library loans on reference books, stayed in the library for days at a time, all while he coughed up frothy blood and flower petals onto his notes.

Some of those petals were pressed into the journal itself, a grim reminder of things that Vergil didn't want to admit — to himself or to anyone else. But this flower… this flower didn't care what he would admit, it would feed on his human emotions regardless.

Because that was what caused this entire mess: emotions. Demons rarely felt anything except burning anger and hatred, or a desire for power or human flesh and blood. Higher devils, like Sparda or even Mundus, were capable of more, but even they almost never felt anything quite like  _love_. Sparda had, eventually — that was why Vergil and Dante existed at all.

And  _love_  was going to kill Vergil. The flowers would only bloom in the presence of a deep, lasting love for another. Some varieties only fed on certain types — the one growing in his lungs right now was one of those. Blue petals, white edges, and a light dusting of deep red.

A flower of romantic love.

For  ** _Dante_**.

Vergil looked at himself in the mirror, not liking how pale he'd gotten in the past few weeks. Only last week, he'd come home from the library to find Dante drunk. To hear his twin accuse him of not  _trusting_  Dante with his weaknesses. It had almost broken Vergil's heart.

Certainly, whatever vines or roots or thorns that had been growing in his chest, the emotions that coursed through him at hearing Dante's confession had made those squeeze tighter around his heart, forced the very air from his damaged lungs.

And wasn't that just the thing… it was his human emotions that were enabling this plant to grow and thrive, and his demon side that was both keeping it from killing him outright and also the reason it was there in the first place. These flowers were harmless to humans, who had no demonic energy to start the seed growing. In pure demons, who so rarely felt anything like love in the first place, they were inert until the living host died.

In a half-demon, who both had the energy to start the plant's growth, and could  _feel_  and  _love_  and  _care_  and want to give their entire life in service to another's happiness? It was a death sentence.

It was time, Vergil supposed, to start making arrangements. To spend as much of the remainder of his life as he could with Dante, before… Before he had to leave again.

He'd made a promise to his little brother, that he wouldn't leave of his own volition. Truly, if he was able to have a say in the matter, Vergil would never leave, would do whatever it took to tear this fucking plant from his chest and live with Dante even if it meant never being able to fight again.

That wasn't an option for him. By all accounts, the plant was already too deeply embedded in his lungs. Every breath he took tore open new holes where the roots and vines didn't want to move — the cause of the blood he coughed up alongside the flower's petals. Removing it entirely would shred his entire chest apart beyond even what his dwindling demonic healing could repair. Once it bloomed, it would drain whatever remained of his demonic energy, leaving him unable to heal at all.

Fighting the urge to sigh, knowing that he had to carefully moderate his breathing, Vergil dressed himself and prepared to insist that today, Dante let the girls or Nero take care of jobs. They could sit in, marathon a television series on his tablet, and order pizza — something Vergil rarely conceded to unless he was in a particularly good mood with his brother.

Dante needed some happier memories of them together. Not bickering, not fighting, not anything dealing with death and destruction or tainted by an inability to remember most of their childhoods. No, just the two of them sitting next to each other, enjoying pizza and watching bad television shows on netflix.

He knew Dante would miss him, would be a royal mess without Vergil. That knowledge tore at him more than the flowers blooming in his chest. If he could do things over—

Well. It was pointless to dwell on the past, but if Vergil  _was_  able to do things over, he would spend more time doing pointless shit like just quietly sitting next to Dante, would let himself  _lean_  against his twin and maybe, just maybe… steal a kiss when Dante was half-asleep and unsure whether the action was a dream or reality.

Allowing himself the luxury of a navy blue dress shirt with the top three buttons left undone, a simple pair of black jeans, and a pair of socks, Vergil set Yamato to lean against his bed. Time to talk Dante into spending a day in.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dante finally gets some alone time with Vergil

He still didn't know what was going on with Vergil. His twin brother was being infuriatingly stubborn, spending even less time at home than usual lately. So Dante had been throwing himself into jobs, only looking forward to being home late at night, after the libraries and book stores closed and Vergil was forced to come home with him.

Honestly, that Verge hadn't left at all this morning was surprising. Dante had been sleeping in his desk chair at night, trying to at least catch a glimpse of his brother on the way out the door in the mornings. But it was nearly eleven, and Vergil was only now making his way downstairs in surprisingly casual (for him) clothes.

"Hey, what's the occasion?"

The melancholy smile that Vergil gave took Dante way too off-guard. "I've been spending too much time out lately. I thought we might unplug the office phone, close up the shop, order a pizza and watch something on my tablet."

Was. Was Dante  _dreaming_  right now? "Okay, Verge, pinch me or something 'cause I've gotta be asleep. This can't be real."

Something shifted in Vergil's eyes, or the way his smile fell on his lips, because it went from sad to blindingly bright at those words. Fuck, that was what he'd wanted for the past several weeks, wasn't it? To see his twin drop all his pretenses and just  _smile_  and let himself be happy.

It made his chest ache in an all-too-familiar way. Shit.

Still, it wasn't like Dante could just say no, not to that smile and the soft, restrained laugh that rasped in Vergil's chest. "What's this? You're  _smiling_? The world's gonna end, Verge, it's one of the signs of the apocalypse."

Brush away the ache, the pain, the idea that his quiet, restrained brother would ever want Dante  _like that_. Cover it up with a joke.

Wrong move.

Just like that, the light disappeared from the room as Vergil broke eye contact. He went over to the sofa, reclining against one arm and gesturing for Dante to join him, so at least it wasn't something his brother was mad at him about but… But he'd still ruined the moment, somehow.

Knowing that he might be pushing his luck, Dante settled in between Vergil's legs, back against his twin's chest. The sharp intake of breath felt bad, he could hear the way Vergil's lungs were rattling and the worst part was he could  _feel_  it against his back.

But he wasn't pushed away, a hand just settled over his stomach as a hoarse, raspy voice asked Dante to reach for his tablet since he was so clearly pinned in place. The tablet itself wound up propped on his chest, and they ordered pizza before anything else. Two pizzas with everything, and Dante didn't even protest the presence of olives, not this time. If Vergil wanted them, he'd gladly pick them off and hand them over.

Dante couldn't keep his mind on whatever dumb series they were watching together, and after the pizza arrived, he was grateful for the break, the silence to just  _be_  with his twin and enjoy each other's presence without any pretense.

He wanted, so badly, to kiss Vergil. To tell him how much he cared. The silence was too much, too thick, and Dante wiped grease from his hand onto his shirt to reach over and just hold his brother's hand.

"Hey. I missed this. Being with you, I mean. We keep fighting but it's times like this I like the best."

Vergil raised an eyebrow, the slightest quirk of a smile on the corners of his lips. "What, when we're both too awkward to talk to each other and choosing to stuff our faces with pizza instead?"

Dante picked off pieces of olive from his latest slice and threw them at Vergil, both as retaliation for being an ass and to get rid of them. At least someone was here now to eat the little bastards instead of him. Right?

"Just… sitting next to each other. Being close. I mean, the awkwardness isn't great, but it's still better than seeing you  _gone_  all fucking day. I missed  _you_ , Verge. Didn't you miss me, too?"

His twin opened his mouth to say something, and then started coughing up a massive, bloodied chunk of  _something_. In a panic, Dante did the only thing he could think to — hold Vergil close.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the short chapter, but the next chapter is the last one!


	7. Chapter 7

A warm arm settled around his shoulder to pull him close, and Vergil barely managed to slow his coughing to look up into Dante's eyes. He couldn't meet them for long, could only look down instead at the entire flower that had come up this time.

No more individual petals or pieces of them, this time it was the whole thing. Elegant baby blue and white petals curved backwards, and the only thing he could think was that it looked like a lily. It really would be quite beautiful, if it weren't also coated in his blood.

"Verge…" Dante's voice cut through his thoughts, and Vergil knew that if he was this far gone, there was little use in hiding the truth anymore.

"I'm dying, Dante. This plant has been growing in my chest, blooming in my lungs. I haven't been able to find a cure for it, everything I've read about it says that it's a death sentence once it grows like this." His voice was hoarse, and another coughing fit brought up more petals, more blood. But also it brought Dante closer, strong arms holding him tight and making him feel safe.

"C'mon, Vergil. We'll figure this out. I can't lose you again." There was a soft wetness on his neck, and when Vergil pushed his brother away slightly, he could see the tears in his eyes.

Devils shouldn't cry. But Dante — and Vergil as well — they were also half-human. Prone to giving in to their emotions. If they weren't, then Vergil might not be in this mess. So he just reached up to wipe away the tears in his brother's eyes, trying to give a comforting smile.

"Don't cry over me, Dante. A man like me doesn't deserve your tears." More coughing, more blood, more thorns digging into his heart. Vergil spat out another intact flower, letting himself lean against his twin. There was really only one thing left to tell him.

"Dante, listen to me. This might be the last thing I ever say, so I want you to know."

Shaking, Vergil brought Dante close enough for their lips to touch before kissing him. It started soft, but then  _Dante_  was the one pushing it further, trying to deepen it. Before the demonic seed could transfer, though, Vergil pulled away. "I love you, Dante. Don't let yourself waste away when I'm gone. Promise me that you'll let other people protect you from yourself, since I won't be there to do it."

Vergil's eyes drifted shut, and he was only dimly aware of his brother's murmurs of requited love as another coughing fit took over him. It was so hard to breathe, he was suffocating, but Dante was at least here with him, holding Vergil at his last moments.

This was better than the last times he'd died. As the darkness faded in, his brother was giving him love. Soft kisses pressed against Vergil's cheeks, brushing away tears that fell more freely now than they ever had before in his life. Emotions were so strange, so overwhelming, once he let himself  _feel_  them, let himself acknowledge their existence.

At least before this death, Vergil had gotten to tell Dante his true feelings. Maybe it was a cold comfort, but he hoped it would be enough.

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For the first time in over a month, Vergil could  _breathe_. There was no pain when his lungs expanded, no concerning rattle in his chest or any kind of wheezing quality to his breath. Just a slow, comfortable rhythm of  _inhale, exhale_.

But he'd died. Hadn't he? The flowers had already started blooming in his chest, had sapped what little strength he'd had left, had…

No. No that wasn't quite right. Vergil had blacked out, yes, but the last thing he remembered really clearly was kissing Dante. How his twin had kissed  _back_ , with a hunger and desperate need that could only indicate they felt the same way about each other.

It was stupid to just lay down, his eyes closed as he tried to think about all this. Vergil opened his eyes, trying to sit up. There was a bit of dizziness as he changed position, but there was sunlight streaming in through a dingy window, and next to the bed…

Dante was asleep in a folding chair, arms crossed and head drooped onto his chest. It was almost surreal. Careful not to make too much noise, because he knew how light a sleeper his twin was, Vergil peeled his covers aside and leaned forward to the slumbering figure holding bedside vigil.

"Good morning," Vergil whispered, almost afraid to disturb the relative peace.

His brother's eyebrows scrunched up, and the slow rhythm of his breathing sped up as Dante rocketed into consciousness. But then blue eyes met Vergil's, took in the scene before them, and suddenly he was tackled to the bed with a shuddering, clinging twin trying not to fall apart on top of him.

"… Is this real, then? I'm not dead?" Vergil finally asked after several minutes of running a hand through Dante's hair.

"I thought you were gonna leave me again. And then you kept coughing and… I think something happened to kill it. You coughed up a bunch of withered roots and  _so much blood_. I was terrified, Verge."

Vergil… killed the plant? But how?

It only hit him, belatedly, as Dante pulled back so that his twin could kiss him on the lips, that Vergil had never  _once_  read about any of the instances of this plant blooming where the victim had had their love requited — it was rare enough that a demon fell in love in the first place, even rarer that they were loved in return.

But Dante and Vergil were half-human, driven by so many whirling emotions that even a lifetime of feeling them still had both twins sorting everything out.

So his confession had very likely saved him… Vergil found himself laughing into the kiss, wrapping his arms around Dante's neck and keeping him pulled close.

"I love you, Dante. And I promise, I won't be leaving you any time soon."

That was the least he could do for his little brother. Vergil felt himself smiling, just leaning in and allowing himself to  _enjoy_  these precious, loving moments with Dante.

In his arms, his brother went stiff before laughing and pulling himself up. "You've been out of it for over a week, Verge. How about we go out someplace fancy to celebrate? A nice dinner date."

A  _date_. Vergil reached out, silently asking for help to stand and showing a bit of vulnerability in the mere act of extending his hand. "I think I'd like that. But don't try to romance me with flowers any time soon."

They'd both had their fill of flowers, he was sure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for sticking with me through this fic, especially those of you who were screaming about every snippet and update in the Spardacest discord! Your pain fed me, and I'm happy to leave you with a more satisfying conclusion after all the suspense and ambiguity I gave you regarding the ending.


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